It really is strange
by Daughter of Thranduil
Summary: In the Musain one night, Feuilly muses on the friends who surround him. One shot.


**Just a oneshot, from Feuilly's POV. I hope you like it.**

**I just watched the ending of the new Sharpe adventure - OMG Sean Bean Rocks! I'm going to have to write some Sharpe stuff now.**

**btw, if anyone is interrested, I redid my oneshot 'Enjolras, are you blind?' I'd love to know what you think of the new version.**

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You know – it really is odd – if you met us all singularly, it would never cross your mind that the nine of us were companions. In fact, sitting here in Musain; the room illuminated by the dim glow of the candles, I find it almost hard to believe myself. We get along so well but we are all so completely and utterly different. My brothers all have so many diverse but endearing qualities and I am fiercely fond of them all.

Take Enjolras now. To know him is to admire him. I've never met a man so wholly devoted to his cause in all my life. He has the kind of persona which simply demands your attention, but no one ever minds giving it to him. He is the one who is going to bring about the grand change, and we shall be right behind him.

Some who do not know him well call him cold and detached. They couldn't be more wrong. Though Julien's parents are aristocrats through-and-through, there is not an ounce of snobbishness in him. He is simply too focused on his dreams of the future to waste him time on distractions – though with his looks he has half the girls in Paris wilting at his feet. He just takes a while to warm to people, and when he does, you realise that the statue does have a heart after all.

A kind and warm heart at that, with a dry sense of humour and an astounding amount of intelligence. He is reserved by nature – that, I think, originating from his childhood, but once you are firmly established in his trust, he will go to any means to help you.

I was very touched when he offered me use of his very extensive book case, when he discovered how limited my reading materials were. He was outraged on my behalf that a self-educated young man was stuck making fans for a living and he and I have been reasonably close ever since. I find it so incredibly inspiring that a young man who could quite realistically have everything he wanted, including a brilliant law career, is instead spending his time fighting for the people of the streets.

He's on his feet now…his clear voice filling the room, his blue eyes so full of intensity, they make you want to leap to your feet and scream "_Vive La Republique!_". When God handed out eloquence, one can be sure that Julien was at the front of the line.

Then there's Combeferre. Endlessly patient, always smiling, always happy to help. I sometimes wonder why he doesn't despair of the lot of us. He sees the good in everyone, and never loses his temper, which is why he and Julien make such a good pair. When Julien is irritated, Etienne will mollify him; when Etienne is worried for the future, Julien will reassure him. They just go together that way, as if their friendship was always destined.

He and Joly have more work than any of the others, being medical students, but Combeferre is never to busy to listen to anyone with a problem. If there is bad feeling in the room – like when Joly and Bahorel are at each other's throats – he's always the first to try and cheer everyone up afterwards. He's as dedicated as Julien is, but yet more compassionate. While Julien wants to charge ahead, Etienne worries more on how everyone will be affected. And yet, for all their differences, they're closer than brothers. They have the strongest bond of friendship that I've ever seen.

But that's just Combeferre. He welcomes everyone to his heart and holds them dearly. He's going to be a good doctor, I'm sure, for he treats everyone as an equal. He never shows any reserve, just simple and honest affection.

Now as for Courfeyrac – he's a character. One of the sombre, intelligent law students – though there is nothing solemn about Jerôme. He is without a doubt the Casanova of the group. He spent half of the previous hour shamelessly chatting up the waitress. He's flashing me that grin now which means he's about to do something which will make Enjolras explode; and he does manage to do that very often. Regardless of how gloomy you feel, spend five minutes in the same room as Courfeyrac and you will be laughing. He's so inhumanly charming and full of cheek, and I swear one of these days he actually _will_ drive Enjolras to distraction, but we really couldn't be without him.

Even though he's a law student, he's one of the laziest and most disorganised boys I've ever met. I know for a fact that the majority of his coursework this term has been copied from Julien, and anything that he's done himself has been done in the early hours of the morning that it's due. But I know, when the time is right, Courfeyrac will be one of the first at the barricade; all lethargy gone in a flash, ready to defend our ideals and our lives. He may spend a lot of time playing about, but he's dedicated, determined and incredibly loyal. He prides himself on being the 'comic relief', and I think it does us all good to have him near when living in a city that at the moment seems to be enveloped in perpetual gloom.

Joly's realised exactly what he's about to do and is frantically sending him silent signals, plainly telling him '_He's going to go through the roof, Jerôme. Leave him alone!'_. Courfeyrac, as usual, ignores him, and clandestinely slides Enjolras's textbook off the table and under his seat, quickly followed by his essay notes and pen.

I look over at Joly with a shrug that says '_Why do we bother?_' and he grins back. Now Joly, he's a complex character and an utter eccentric, but a sheer pleasure to know. When his mind is left unoccupied, he's liable to convince himself that he has twelve diseases at once and then spends the rest of the day worrying that he's going to die. And then, bizarrely, as soon as any of the rest of us are in trouble or have a problem, his hypochondria is forgotten in an instant and he steps into what Jerôme teasingly calls his 'big brother persona'. Even though L'Aigle, Bahorel, Grantaire and I myself are older than him, Christophe just has a tendency to look out for everyone. Like Etienne, the second he finds out that one of us has a problem, he's there in an instant and asking how he can help. And despite being sure he's going to die three times a week, he's the most cheerful and easy-going of us all – except when Bahorel rubs him up the wrong way. Then he is capable of producing a glare that would shame even Enjolras.

Oddly enough, though he's afraid of disease and germs, our young Malade Imaginare was one of the first to be out on the streets drumming up support. He risked his life countless times, going to places where we couldn't entirely be sure of the people's sympathies, but he didn't even stop to hesitate. There's also the fact that he'll stand up to Sebastien in a towering rage, which rates any man a hero. I can't help but care for him; so ridiculously afraid of illness, but so selflessly brave. A loyal friend, a brilliant student, a true leader of the people…such an odd lot of qualities to be found in one man, but such a wonderful combination!

Well, that's done it! Courfeyrac has now managed to make Enjolras lose his temper four times this week, and it's only Wednesday! While he unconvincingly protests his innocence, the rest of us exchange long-suffering sighs and roll our eyes. Poor Prouvaire looks like he has finally despaired of his mischievous roommate. He's chewing on his lip again; a habit that makes him look like a nervous schoolboy, although he's so fresh-faced that he could easily be mistaken for one.

Like Enjolras, Prouvaire comes from a rich family, yet for all the quality of his clothing, he has the worst dress sense I've ever seen. I swear that his overabundance of poetic and musical talents are balanced out by his utter lack of colour awareness. He wears purple with green, red with brown and far too many other disastrous combinations to mention. With his long fair hair and general air of vague dreaminess, he is a stereotype of a romantic poet, the odd one out in a room of lawyers, doctors and workers.

But beneath the horrific dress sense and the quiet demeanour beats the heart of a true revolutionary. With his vivid imagination an elaborate speech, he can see the future more clearly than any of us, except Enjolras of course, and that makes him all the more determined to see it come true. Like Combeferre, he's the cement that holds the group together; friendly, non-judgemental and forgiving. When a wrinkle appears in the bonds of our friendships, Jehan always attempts to iron it out before any discord can come of it. When Joly and Bahorel are yelling at each other and everyone stands gaping in shock, Jehan always wades in to calm Christophe while I deal with Sebastien. He's a natural peace-maker, so it makes it all the more poignant that he is willing to fight to see his dreams of the republic come true. Hemeets my eyes for amoment, as heleans over to listen to L'Aigle's conspiratorial whisper and gives a gentle smile, looking over at Enjolras and Courfeyrac with humour.

Now what can you say about L'Aigle? Dear Bossuet, the most clumsy and ill-fated man I've ever met. You may be sure, if there is a piece of furniture in the room, he'll walk into it before he leaves. If there is a flight of stairs nearby, he'll fall down them. His hair is all gone and, like me, he is struggling to make ends meet.

Through all this, Bossuet remains eternally cheerful. He laughs at his own misfortunes with a cheerful glee and encourages us all to do the same. That's why he's such an essential part of the group. When times are hard, it's impossible to feel sorry for yourself and sit in gloom while Bossuet is next to you, nursing a split lip and a bruised elbow from yet another, if you'll pardon the pun, _trip_ down the stairs. He teaches us to laugh at ourselves and to look on the bright side and we all know that the group would be much duller without him.

I know that things would certainly be duller without Bahorel around. Lord knows he's the most quick-tempered human being alive and would pick a fight with his own shadow, but he's the best friend I've ever had. We've been through so much together these last few years; struggling to make ends meet in a city that is brimming over with injustice. We've learnt to rely on each other; like Enjolras and Combeferre we have our differences but we seem to fit together so naturally that we barely notice them.

Jehan and Combeferre always say that we're good for each other. I will sometimes attempt to keep working until my eyes shut of their own accord and my fingers become too sore to move, but Sebastien will have none of it. He will drag me away from that blasted pile of fans and we will go to meet L'Aigle and Grantaire, and drink to our respective misfortunes. It may seem like no great comfort to any of you, but it does me the world of good and always lightens my heart when it feels like a burden in my chest.

Likewise, I am sometimes a benefit to Sebastien. He will fight over nothing a lot of the time, just for the sake of enjoying a good brawl, but he is heinously careless of his own safety. I often resort to dragging him away before the blows start flying; glad that I can save him from a few black eyes. He always protests from the outset, but I know that he truly does appreciate it.

And that's the way we work; Bahorel keeps me from working too hard and I keep him from getting himself killed. Together we manage to get through life tolerably well; listening to Enjolras, laughing with Courfeyrac, teasing poor Bossuet and puzzling over Marius.

As for Marius himself, he's just arrived late. _Again_! Enjolras sends him a frown which lets him know that he is far from happy, but Marius seems oblivious. He must be dreaming about that girl he's been mooning around lately…I can't remember her name.

Now Marius is a boy I _really_ don't understand. Every time I make up my mind that he's a clueless dreamer who really has no idea what he's in the middle of, he goes and says something incredibly profound, and throws me off course. He has such varying behaviour, I can never get a decent impression of him. Some days, his head is so far up in the clouds that he surpasses even Jehan and he doesn't listen to a word that's said. Yet other days, he will argue with Enjolras and Joly, making his strict morality clear with an intelligence that you'd really never attribute to him.

Still, hopefully, I'll get to know him better soon, when he comes out of his shell a little more. He's still inclined to cling to Courfeyrac most of the time, so none of us really know him or share a bond with him like the rest of us do with each other.

And there, sitting in the corner, is poor Grantaire. No one has ever inspired such pity in me. He's had it hard, has Luc, just like me and Sebastien, but while we struggled through, Grantaire ended up drowning his sorrows in absinthe. It is a crying shame really, for he is so intelligent and sharp-witted, but all his good qualities are dulled by inebriation, which sometimes makes him appear little more than a drunk who has attached himself to us. They fail to see his quick-humour, his trusting heart and the sharp mind which is so often swimming with overindulgence in alcohol.

But Grantaire is just as much one of us as I am! Though his beliefs are not as firm, he truly does belong to the cause, though I think that it is Enjolras, and not the republic, which inspires his devotion.

Everyone knows how much Grantaire venerates Enjolras. He quite plainly idolises him and it is so clear that he would risk life and limb just to beside when we make our stand. However, the communication between the two is often strained. Grantaire hides his admiration behind sarcastic comments, while Enjolras conceals his wish to see the drunkard better himself with dry responses and cold contempt. But maybe one day they will see through each other's shields and realise what the rest of us deduced – they really do look upon each other as friends and each respects the other for who they are, no matter how much they try to conceal it.

As I said, we are an odd combination; all so different but such a wonderful mix of characteristics. We work well together, for we support each other's good points and make up for each other's faults – what one of us lacks another makes up for.

But our differences do not matter, for the thing that unites us is so much stronger – a bond of the truest, deepest, most sincere friendship there has ever been. There is no one I would rather have at my side when the time comes for us to make a stand, than my brothers of the ABC; Enjolras with his burning intensity, Courfeyrac with his cheeky grin, Bahorel'sreckless enthusiasm, Joly watching over everyone…they all mean the world to me. What I lack in material possessions, I more than make up for with the wealth of the friendships that surround me.

I will stand with them to whatever end we may meet, as we fight to make our dreams of the future come true. And if we fail, there is no one I'd rather die beside. United by friendship and the desire to vanquish injustice, we will attempt to accomplish what we've spoken of for so long now.

And who knows? We may even become historic…

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**What did this inspire? A smile, or Flames? Please let me know!**


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